We used to pretend to be British
through the drive thru speaker
deadpanning, ‘she went on break’
with the bag of fries
jump kicking the door outside open
threw away my wallet by accident- fat with two week’s earnings
scarred my hand
whiling away the hours
ten years later you called
and i didn’t recognize your voice
you took it as a sign
we didn’t meet up again
til two years passed
neither of us mentioned
that phone conversation
I rode shotgun in your sedan
full of squirrels
and we’d argue about who was better
Byron or Keroauc
on the road
we’d dissect movies
drink impossible amounts of coffee
and smoke back when i smoked
cigars for you, reds for me
we dreamed up books and shows
and laughed ourselves sideways
in the booths of the restaurants we closed
and i loved you
how i loved you. but when you asked
all i could do was laugh
because she was out there somewhere perfect to your perfect
and i was destined to be
nothing
if not a sister
my dear, dear brother
we both know we were Long lost twins
carried up a ravine
and given to good folk
and look at you
happy and succeeding
with her
and look at me. the same
and still able to talk to each other often all these years
because I’m not an ex
just a crazy good friend who always has your back
a sister from heaven’s days
Midnight strains its music
through blueberries and raspberries
blackberries and muslin cloth
a whistling through the briar bushes
a whooshing through the unthorned
I’d rather night spend its time in me
so i grow lotus length thorns to slow him down in his plucking
and it is beautiful
the way he moves through me
and sings
How is it that what you love
you do not study?
when i study your face without thinking
or the ship lanes in your hands
i study the wrinkles of your worry
and of your astonishment
fine is by a lifted eyebrow
and downturned lip when i ask
you hate when i ask
not fine is when your face remains blank
how is it you do not study what you love?
when i study the high arches of your feet and how it puts a swing into your walk
how your toes dusted with hair curl when you’re concentrating
and all you can say to me
to me
is
tell me
Do you love this ear here
the one you so gently kiss
despite its imperfect workings
or is it
my lips slightly offside
and smirking
or how i crow when i laugh
fall into cascades of hiccuping repeats
you said you said
howling
or is it my eyes-
ocean blue you call them with light built inside
whatever it is that drew you to me
speak true
that i may bottle it up
for some unclever day
when the brewing clouds cast doubt your way
let me capture that moment
with clarity you knew i was yours
so that i may entice you with its perfume forevermore
so is it
the lighting
the red lipstick -oh, I know you hate it
the way i drill you with debate
tell me
else i guess wrong
and curse you in Love’s fate
As I cross the bridge to you
stranger that i am
though once we were bound
i give my heart and soul
do not run i beg you
it’s a messy lot
because of you
a bit disorganized since that day
but true
you know that don’t you
in the distance just there
i can see your breath mingle with the fog
as I cross the bridge to you
unbalanced shifting recovering again and again from fall
stranger that i am
embrace me should i reach your shoulder
clutch my hand if i can go no further along the swallowing bricks
and tell me once
you loved me
A bar of headache behind my eyes
I lie down, try to unthink
the meteor of headache
the meter of my breath
the tree of decisions
which led me to this storm
lightning striking every wayward branch of thought
I sigh
a hope for dawn
another duck and cover
Then Other nights
shed skin isn’t enough
l want the wild on my own flesh
the panting pushing my own blood
i want wind and expert explosions from Cai Guo-Qiang
i want words without saying a damn thing
just in my breathing
in my wholeness
to
I used to shed skin and hang it up in my closet
Figured it would come in handy when i met someone from high school or grade school or from my former neighborhood where i had that squabble
mostly i used them for parties
sour mood
stoked to be alive
awesome
designated driver
or for bored nights
or lonely night- my favorite nights
I’d squeeze down into a former life and write poetry
Travel in the darkness
that angular beast
who knows us as well as our mothers
no, better
deeper and darker in places we hide from the world
AbyKittiwake 